DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me. Smallville is the property of Alfred Gough, Miles Millar, Tollin-Robbins Productions, and Warner Bros. Television, and based upon characters originally created by Jerome Siegel and Joe Shuster. This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This may not quite fulfill the intent of Margaret's challenge--I hope that this is close enough! I realized later that "Vitamins and Minerals", chapter 11 of this series, is labeled as taking place before "Stray", which is technically true. However, for the sake of continuity, it also takes place before this story, so in hindsight, it should be considered as similarly set between "Zero" and "Nicodemus". The rest of "The Nourishment Series" can be found
elsewhere on my webpage - You don't have to read them all first, but it might help.

Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.

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Lex is always trying to get me to try new things.

Once we sat through a video that was nothing but several hours of watching some guy sleep on the pretense that it was an "art film". He's stopped asking me if I want to sample things from his liquor cabinet, since I keep using my age and the law as excuses. Of course, there's always sex, which has proven to be a helluva lot more entertaining than any old movie, though probably a lot less legal than giving alcohol to a minor in
this state.

So sushi should be easy, right? I mean, I like fish. To me, though, fish is usually a little battered square on a bun, or maybe something rolled in cornmeal and fried over a campfire. Number one on my list of fish requirements, though, is the fact that it ought to be
cooked.

The idea of eating raw fish is something I'm not quite sure I can wrap my head around. However, Lex loves me, and he wouldn't make me do anything that he didn't think I would like, would he? At least nothing that I couldn't get used to, I would hope...

It's Friday night, the end of a long, dull week, and all I've thought of all day is coming here to Lex's on his invitation to a sushi dinner. Since I'm assuming that something other than dinner will also be involved, I guess I can put up with the raw fish. I finished my chores early enough to squeeze in a shower before heading over, just in case I smelled of fertilizer, though to Lex, that might just smell like money.

He greets me at the door, knowing that I always arrive precisely on time. I kiss him hello, then take in his costume. "Lex, what the hell are you wearing?"

Looking down at the delicately patterned grey silk garment, which is beautiful next to his pale skin, he explains, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "A kimono. What else do you wear to eat Japanese food?"

"I've never done it before, so I have no idea. Why are you wearing those dorky sandals with socks?"

"Also traditional. Which reminds me: Take off your shoes."

"Why?"

"It's a sign of respect." Before I can ask, "To whom?", he has slipped off his strange wooden sandals and reached for a neatly-folded object made of red silk. "Here," he says, handing me the bundle of fabric.

"What's this?"

"Your kimono. You can change in the coat room," he offers, gesturing to its door.

"Change? Can't I just wear it over my clothes?"

His eyes flash a seductive shade of blue. "No," is all he says, with a tiny grin that makes me understand that he's not wearing anything at all under his kimono and expects me to do the same. This is definitely going to be an
interesting dinner...

I pad into the coat room on crew-socked feet, shutting the door behind me after I find the light switch. Stripping down, I hesitate for a moment at my boxers, which I'd worn for easy access, but decide that I want to feel the silk all over in order to get the complete experience. Since I've been sleeping with Lex for about two months now, I don't mind being naked around him, but the beautifully soft fabric brushing against my skin adds an entirely different dimension to it.

Emerging from the coat room, I nearly bump right into Lex, who must have been ready to come in after me, thinking I was taking too long. He backs off, then executes a perfect Japanese bow to me, which I awkwardly try to ape in return. "Clark-san! Welcome to my home. Follow me," he invites, merely as a formality, I am sure.

We move to the recently-redecorated weapons room, where a very low, square table sits in an open space surrounded by woven mats. Lex sits on his knees on a mat, a much quicker move than I imagine I could duplicate unless using super-speed, then winds his legs into a knot and scoots them under the table, taking his seat in an eyeblink.

"Please, have a seat," he cajoles, eyes shining as he watches me try to fold up like a pocket umbrella without flashing him. Eventually my legs are under the table, I'm sitting on a mat next to the table across from my lover, and red silk is covering what it's supposed to cover until after dinner. When we're ready, my host picks up a little mallet and strikes a shiny gold gong on the table.

A Japanese woman in a purple kimono enters and hands us each a warm, damp washcloth. "Domo arigato" murmurs Lex, who proceeds to wipe off his hands and face with the cloth, so I follow suit. As soon as we are finished, he says something else to the woman, who collects our used cloths and leaves the room.

Feeling refreshed, but still entirely out of my element, I whisper to Lex, "Do I need to speak Japanese?"

"Can you say 'domo arigato?'"

"I think so."

"That's 'thank you', and that's all you should need. I'll take care of the rest." Lex's thoughts seem to be on the food to come.

"Domo arigato."

"Very good," he praises me.

"No, Lex," I correct him. "That's for you. Thank you for inviting me tonight. Being stuck out here in Buttfuck, Kansas, must be hard on you sometimes, far away from the culture of the big city. When you bring some of it here, it really means a lot to me that you want to share it with me."

His smile is absolutely infectious. "You're welcome, Clark. I love you, and as this is part of my life, I wouldn't be comfortable without you here. You're part of my life, too, you know."

I don't care if I'm blushing as bright red as my kimono. "Gee, Lex--I love you so much..."

We just grin stupidly at each other for a few seconds until he smirks suggestively. "And, um, 'Buttfuck'?"

All I can do is smile warmly and shrug at him.

Soon our server brings us small bowls of steaming broth and sets them before us. Lex must notice me scrabbling around my place setting, as he glances up from whatever he's doing with a gentle grin. "Looking for something?"

"Yeah--a spoon."

"Here--you don't need one." He picks up the sticks propped on a small ceramic fish next to his bowl. "You
have used chopsticks before, haven't you?"

"I've played 'Chopsticks' on Pete's mom's piano, if that counts..."

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head in mock annoyance. "Watch me. Pick up your chopsticks and hold them like they're two pencils." I do so, awkwardly. "Steady the one closest to your palm against your lower fingers, like that." He demonstrates with his left hand, making me wish I were watching him in a mirror. "Now pivot the other stick on your knuckle by pushing it with your index finger." I try that, and don't fling both of them immediately onto the floor. I consider this a step in the right direction.

Taking his soup bowl in his other hand, he starts fishing around in his broth with his sticks. "Is it really polite to pick up your bowl like that, Lex?"

"You try living in a paper house in country where the average yearly temperature is forty degrees Fahrenheit," he replies. "You'll appreciate holding your soup bowl in your hands, as well as teacups without handles. Speaking of which--do you want tea?"

"Do I get a teaspoon for my sugar?"

"Heathen," he mutters under his breath, making me snicker for a moment. We've had this discussion about hot Chinese tea with sugar before. "I'll have them bring you a Coke, little boy," he teases, turning back to his soup.

I mimic his fishing in my own bowl, and pull out a chunk of a green leaf wrapped around my sticks. "What's this? Spinach?"

He washes down whatever he's chewing with a sip of soup, and explains, "That's seaweed. Lotsa vitamins. Eat it."

Doing so, I discover it not very much different from spinach, so sip at my soup and start looking for more of it. Instead, I hit something solid, and I carefully maneuver my sticks to pick it up. As I draw my sticks out of the broth, I find pinched between them a cube that looks like semi-soft cheese.

"Tofu," Lex says as identification. "Soybean curd." I start to wrinkle up my nose in disgust, but realize what he's going to say, so I say it along with him: "Lotsa vitamins. Eat it."

The stuff doesn't have much flavor aside from that of the soup itself, so I decide that it's not too objectionable, either. "What kind of soup is this, anyway?" I ask finally.

"Miso. Fermented soybean curd." I start considering whether my dad has a crop of soybeans, and if I'm eating some of them right now, but decide that thinking of my dad while I'm alone with Lex Luthor is probably a bad idea. We finish our soup in a companionable silence.

When we've both placed our empty bowls on the table, Lex rings his little gong, sending the serving lady hurrying in to see about us. She removes the bowls and, after a quick conference with my host, returns with green tea for Lex, a Coke for me, an opaque stoppered bottle, and small empty dishes for each of us. I quirk an eyebrow at him, and he gives me a reassuring look as if to say I'll find out what everything is for soon enough.

The next thing I know, our server is bringing out neat footed trays made of light-colored wood and bearing a vague resemblance to the sandals Lex was wearing earlier in the evening. The array of delicacies on top of it is truly spectacular, brightly colored and perfectly positioned for artistic effect. It almost looks too pretty to eat.

"Where do I start?" I ask, genuinely puzzled.

"Soy sauce," he answers succinctly, removing the stopper from the bottle and pouring some into his small dish. I follow suit and look to him for further instruction, noting that he digs his chopsticks into a small glob of green paste and deposits a portion of it into his soy sauce.

"That stuff isn't flavored with meteor rocks, is it?" I joke, pointing with my chopsticks toward the green lump on my tray. Lex rolls his eyes in my general direction and continues stirring his sauce. "Lemme guess: it's some other soybean concoction..."

"Actually, no," he replies, licking his chopsticks daintily, then adding another dollop of the stuff to his dish. "It's wasabe."

I successfully break off a pea-sized portion of the stuff and decide to taste it by itself, so convey my sticks to my mouth.

Just as I reach out my tongue to take the gob of green stuff, Lex notices what I'm doing and almost shouts, "Stop!"

With my sticks in mid-air, I look at him, frowning. "Why?"

Very gently, he explains, "It's Japanese horseradish, Clark--extremely pungent. You're not supposed to eat it separately, especially if you're not used to it. I don't want you choking so hard you knock over the table, okay?" I nod my acquiescence sedately. "Just stir it into your soy sauce to taste."

Following his example, I mush up the paste into the dark brown sauce, then sample the mixture on my stick. The salty savor is laced with something cool that burns just a little. While I'm not quite sure I can adequately describe the flavor, I do decide that a little more wasabe is needed.

When I've finished preparing my little dish, I look to Lex for further guidance. He has rested his chopsticks on the tiny ceramic fish and is watching me with his hands folded neatly. "Ready?" he asks, and for a heart-rending moment, I get the sense that I'm being tested here tonight.

"Yep," I answer, feeling distinctly like I forgot to study something.

"Let's start with something easy. You like shrimp, right?" He picks up a butterfly-cut shrimp laid out on a heap of perfectly-sculpted sticky rice with his bare hand.

"Wait," I interrupt. "Aren't you supposed to use your chopsticks?"

"Not for sushi, oddly enough. It's more proper to eat it with your fingers."

"But why the chopstick lesson then? Seems like a lot of effort just to eat soup..."

He gives me a sly, perfect smile. "It's a valuable skill. It'll come in handy the next time you get fried rice from Hop Sing's."

"But I eat my fried rice with a fork... Oh," I say, sudden realization hitting me like the afternoon sun after a movie matinee, with far less squinting.

At last I hold my shrimp in my hand. "This looks cooked."

"Not all sushi is raw, Clark. It's a common misconception. Now dip the shrimp side into your sauce and take a bite."

I do as he says, watching him do the same so I try not to make any mistakes. The sauce drips a little from my shrimp, but I catch it in the dish so it doesn't spatter the table. Biting into the pink flesh, I find the shrimp not too much different from one in a shrimp cocktail at a fancy restaurant, but nicely accented by the slightly-spicy sauce and the accompanying rice, which is laced with vinegar. As I chew, I notice an additional sting on my tongue, and turn confused eyes to Lex.

He grins while chewing and swallowing his bite. "Ah, good. A little wasabe hiding between the shrimp and the rice. Just the way I like it."

We finish our first pieces of sushi, then Lex stops and watches me. "How do you like it so far?"

"Not bad," I declare. "What kind should we try next?"

"Wait, Clark. You need to clear your palate between bites. It's part of the experience." He reaches for what I thought was a plastic flower on his tray and peels away one of its petals with his fingers, bringing it to his mouth.

"What's this? More fish?" I ask, following his lead.

He chews with a broad smile on his face, and takes a sip of tea. "Nope. That's pickled ginger. It's sweet. You'll like it."

I place the pink petal across my tongue as he's done and start to chew. The vapors from the stuff permeate my whole head, and if my sinuses had been clogged in the least, they certainly aren't now. Sputtering a little, I can finally speak. "It's loud, too!" Lex continues smiling sweetly, so I wash down my bite with a sip of Coke. The flavors of the cola and the ginger intermingle in my mouth appealingly almost as an afterthought, and in spite of my initial reaction, I can't help adding, "I like it!"

Nodding at me coolly, he merely states, "Thought you would, though your eyes crossed for a second there. Now how about some scrambled egg?"

"Scrambled egg?" I exclaim. "What's that doing in sushi?"

"It's traditional. Most sushi chefs consider it to be an indication of their skill. Try it--the yellow thing tied down with seaweed."

Sure enough, it's scrambled egg. Maybe it's a little smoother and a little more solid than what my mom whips up in her old cast-iron skillet, but the yellow thing dipped in my seasoned soy sauce is a reassuring combination of the familiar and the new.

"What are you up for next?" asks Lex as we each munch on another petal of ginger, his eyes sparkling as if he's enjoying the show of watching me eat very much.

"I dunno. Surprise me."

"Okay. That," he demands quietly, pointing with his sticks at a piece of white-colored fish already darkened with some kind of brown sauce that has a few sesame seeds sprinkled on top.

Opting to forego the soy and wasabe on this one, I take a bite of it and chew thoughtfully. "Is that teriyaki sauce on this?"

"Very good. We'll make you into an expert yet." He lets me finish this piece, which is sweet and smoky from the sauce, but a little greasy and amazingly tender. "Any idea what that was?"

I extract a small bone from my mouth and lay it aside. "Absolutely none. Whitefish?" I guess, based upon color alone.

"Don't be absurd," he teases me. "You don't make sushi out of whitefish. You make
gefilte fish out of whitefish."

"What's gefilte fish?"

"Never mind. Give up?"

"I have no idea what I just put in my mouth, Lex. Care to enlighten me?"

"Eel."

"Eel?" I whine in disgust, suddenly sounding seven years old again.

"Take it easy, Clark," he shushes, patting me on the hand. "You
liked it while you were eating it, didn't you?"

"I guess so," I admit grudgingly, reaching gladly for a piece of ginger and a sip of Coke anyway.

"Sorry if that was a bit of a surprise," Lex offers with a genuinely apologetic expression.

"Well, it is what I asked for. How about something a little less intimidating this time?"

"Okay. Have you had fresh tuna before?"

I look around on my platter for anything looking like the tuna I might recognize and come up empty. "Guess not," I answer. "Only associates of Charlie ever make it to the Kent Farm, I imagine."

He chuckles warmly. "You're in for a treat, then. Eat the dark red one next. Now this one
is raw."

The fish in question is soft and meaty in flavor, its texture oddly reminiscent of having Lex's tongue in my mouth. My eyes close involuntarily as I relish the effect this bite has on my other senses, and I can feel a large grin creep across my face as I finish chewing and swallow the amazing morsel.

"I take it you enjoyed that," supposes my benefactor even before I can open my eyes again.

"Oh, yes," I reply. "What gave me away?"

Snorting amusedly, he observes, "You looked like you do when you have an orgasm."

My grin still firmly affixed, and my eyes still closed, I sigh, "I'm not sure that I
didn't..."

We both laugh and attack the rest of our dinners piece by piece. Bites of raw salmon, yellowtail, red snapper, and mackerel disappear slowly, along with much of my sauce and my ginger rose. Eventually I am left with three items from which to choose. Two of them are circles of seaweed topped with bright orange stuff, and the last has unmistakable suction cups on it. "This is octopus, isn't it?"

"Excellent deduction!" Lex crows, grabbing his own portion and dousing it in soy sauce. He chomps down on it--and proceeds to chew for a lot longer than I thought it was possible to chew a single bite of food.

"How is it?" I ask warily.

"A little tough," he garbles around his mouthful, finally swallowing it quite forcibly. "That's one of the hazards of octopus--it's difficult to cook it just right so it gets more tender than your standard pencil eraser."

"Sounds appetizing," I add with a good dose of sarcasm.

"Don't worry. It's got a good flavor. It's just tricky to eat."

Giving him a suspicious look, I dip my piece and attempt to bite it in half. However, this is impossible, so I just cram the whole thing into my mouth and imitate Lex's earlier chewing ritual. Once again, he is right--the taste is quite nice, but the texture leaves something to be desired. For a moment, I am tempted to use a little super-speed or extra strength on it, but I'm afraid that my lover will notice, so I struggle through normally as best I can.

"Nice thing about octopus," Lex jokes as he reaches for his tea, "you burn off any calories it might have just by chewing it."

"Handy," I agree, eyeing the remaining two pieces on my plate as if they might bite me. "What's this stuff?"

He picks up his piece topped with larger orange spheres. "This one's salmon roe. You
do know what roe is, don't you?"

"Right," he answers, popping the whole bite into his mouth at once and smirking at me a little as he chews.

I close my eyes rather than watch him. "Lex," I chide, "you're eating fish eggs..."

"Yes," he nods when he's swallowed most of it. "So will you."

It's a dare--I can tell. "I will?" I ask without much enthusiasm.

"Yes, you will. They're delicious." The unmistakable challenge does not leave his eyes.

"Okay," I concede, swallowing slightly. "What do they taste like?"

He looks thoughtful for a minute, searching for an accurate description. "Saltwater. A little fishy, too. Kinda like caviar, but sweeter."

Caviar--the mere notion stirs a distant memory. I look into his eyes and remember an afternoon in the barn, a bunch of weird flowers, and the first time Lex ever kissed me. Suddenly it's okay--this man won't lead me astray, and because I have trusted him this far, I now have everything I could ever want.

Bravely, I imitate his moves, dipping the bottom of the seaweed-wrapped rice cylinder into my soy sauce, then stuffing the whole thing into my mouth so not a single egg escapes. As I chew, the eggs burst between my teeth like little salty water balloons, an effect that is remarkably pleasant. By the time I swallow, I am wearing a grin almost as broad as the one on Lex's face.

"Good?" he verifies.

"Wonderful," I sigh in response, but not daring to mention a word of the associations in my head.

"See, I told you you'd like it!" he smiles. "So, you ready for your last piece?"

"What is it?"

"Flying fish roe. Kinda like the salmon roe, but much smaller, and with a richer taste. Think you can handle it?"

"Sure," I answer out loud, though while I enjoy the tinier explosions of these eggs, I think that I could handle just about anything with Lex there to guide me.

It's possible that the miniature eggs will be hiding around the crevasses in my teeth for the rest of the evening, so I chew the last petal of my ginger thoroughly and chase it with a hearty swig of my Coke to clear my mouth as best I can. We sit in a well-fed silence for a few moments, while in my head I run through the palette of strange new flavors I have just experienced.

With my legs splayed a lot less formally than I assume one is supposed to sit at one of these tables, I slowly become aware of a gentle tickling going on in my lap. While I have been somewhat distracted, Lex has unwound his legs and reached one foot across the space under the table, sneaking toes wrapped in a silk sock under the hem of my kimono to brush against my naked skin.

"Lex?" I begin.

"Yes, Clark?" he answers coyly.

"Is there any reason why your foot is currently poking my stomach?"

"Yes," he replies with nothing more than a slow blink. "I missed." At that, the toes in question creep down my stomach and very definitely begin stroking my dick, which had gotten somewhat used to the sexy slipperiness of the fabric in front of it, but now reawakens more quickly than I am expecting.

Sighing in pleasure at the stimulation, I feel I must ask, "So, Lex--what did you have in mind?"

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he suggests, "Could I interest you in dessert?"

"Yeah," I groan, feeling myself getting hard at his touch, "and maybe then we could have something sweet to finish off dinner." The idea of allowing him to let go long enough for us to get up from the table is completely unacceptable at the moment, so I just grab the piece of furniture by its opposite edges and lift it straight up from our laps, turning at the waist so that I may deposit it off to one side and get it out of our way. Later I may have to explain that maneuver, especially if the table proves to have been heavy in the least, but at the moment I am too damned turned on to worry about that.

Our one obstacle removed, I lunge up from the mat where I sit and nearly tackle Lex down onto the floor behind him. I grab him by his shoulders and plunge my tongue into his mouth, sucking the remaining ginger flavor off of his tongue. Kissing me back with fervor, he wraps his arms around my back, pulling me in close, and doubling the effort with his legs around my ass. The kimonos we wear slide against each other sensually, adding to my arousal and making me appreciate the firmness of his grip that keeps me from slipping right off of him and falling onto the floor.

Something about our position inspires me, and gratitude as well as my desire for my lover puts a wonderful, naughty picture in my head. "Lex," I murmur, breaking away from his fierce kisses reluctantly, "I want to do something..."

"Anything, baby--you name it," he nearly moans, diving back in to kiss me hard again.

Our love affair has taught me many things, and given me opportunities to enjoy experiences I would never have had otherwise. However, there is still one thing that I haven't done.

"I wanna fuck you, Lex," I whisper in his ear when my mouth is momentarily free of his tongue. "Let me fuck you tonight--please?"

I raise up from his grip on me to lean back and watch his reaction. His mouth, lips kiss-bruised and still wet from my tongue, drops open in awe, and a perfect smile tweaks up its corners. "Oh, my precious, precious boy!" he mouths almost soundlessly, shaking his head slowly in wonder while his eyes grow visibly misty.

"Is that a yes?" I ask, praying to God that I haven't misread his emotions.

He nearly laughs in my face at that, then sits up as much as he can with me lying on him full-length and flings his arms tightly around my neck in an affectionate squeeze. "Fuck, yeah!" he blurts out a little shakily, then lets himself fall back flat onto the floor, pulling me with him once again. "Let's take it upstairs, though--it'll be a helluva lot more comfortable in bed!"

Placing one emphatic kiss on his mouth, I then allow myself to slide off of Lex's body and catch myself on my knees at his side. I tuck one arm under his knees and the other under his shoulders so I may lift him off of the floor. Obligingly he wraps his arms around my neck again, and I carry him as carefully as I can toward the staircase, which is a little difficult given how hard I am.

"Hold on a second!" he commands, then shouts over my shoulder. "Mrs. Okamoto?" My gaze follows his, and I turn with him still in my arms so he can see the door to the kitchen.

The small woman in purple appears in the door, looking a little confused at our planned exit.

He addresses her without waiting for me to set him on the floor. "We may have dessert later, if that's all right. I didn't want to leave without saying thank you for all of your help. Tell Yoshi-san that everything was marvelous."

"You're welcome, Mr. Lex!" she smiles after us, though with her accent, it sounds more like "Mr. Rex."

"Now: to the bedroom, Kent!" Lex orders me like he would a chauffeur.

"Sorry, no more toasts," I tease. "My glass is empty."

He snickers at me and smacks the back of my head affectionately. "Get upstairs, you!" he snarls jokingly, then reclasps his wrist behind my head.

I manage to convey my treasure up the staircase and into his room, dropping him gently on his bed and nowhere else, no thanks to his nuzzling my ear every step of the way. He looks up at me with the most beautiful smile, his eyes sparkling with anticipation and what I can only assume is unabashed love. "You really want this?" he asks, his voice barely hiding a tone of sheer disbelief at my request. "You want to make me yours?"

"Let me show you how much," I say, startled at the timbre and emotion in my own voice. Tugging at the tail of the bow I've tied in my sash, I throw open my kimono to reveal the erection that almost throbs between my legs. The red silk is soon abandoned in a puddle of fabric on the floor topped with my crew socks, and I crawl naked onto Lex's bed to crouch between his widely-spread legs. "There's a ritual to
this, too, isn't there?"

"Yes, Clark. To everything that matters," he sighs, reaching for the knot in his sash, then obviously changing his mind and letting his hands drop away to allow me to undress him.

I lean up to kiss him slowly and solemnly, then sit back on my heels and work my fingers gently into the material of the knot, being cautious not to shred the expensive fibers. My hands actually cooperate calmly, though inside my chest, my heart is going like a jackhammer. Why tonight, and not before? Maybe it's the memory of how we started on the road that brought us here, but if I were unsure earlier about taking this step with Lex, all I want now is to give him exactly what he asked me for so many weeks ago. At last I am ready, and I can no longer refuse him the feeling that he has given me every time he's made love to me.

Soon his kimono and socks are discarded, and I hold myself steady above his lean, warm body. I lower my hips and nestle my engorged cock in the divine hollow of his pelvic bone, feeling his matching pressure in my own. "I love you," I say directly into his mouth, and his smile receives my kiss. Reaching over to his nightstand, I watch his eyes as I open the drawer he has often opened for me, finding a bottle of lube and a wrapped condom right where I know they'll be.

He leans up on his elbows a little to keep an eye on me, in case I get into trouble. "Put that on first," he instructs, cocking his chin towards the flat plastic packet. "It'll help you last longer." As I tear off the corner and extract the rubber circle, I will my pulse to slow down a little, the effect of which is totally lost when I start to roll the thing on myself and I can hear Lex offer a soft, encouraging, "Yeah, that's right."

My cock feels almost like someone else's hand is clutching it gently all over, keeping me from coming just yet. I know Lex sometimes puts a little lube inside the things to make them feel better, but all evidence to the contrary, I am sort of scared that it will slip off, so don't dare take the risk my first time.

I flip open the lid of the lube and squeeze out some into my hand. It's rather cool, so I suddenly appreciate the trouble Lex takes to warm it up every time, and follow his example proudly. Working on the farm makes it necessary to keep my fingernails trimmed neatly, so inadvertently hurting Lex is much less likely, and I spread his ass open with my left hand fearlessly, or nearly so. My right index finger, slick with lubricant, finds his opening and pets a neat circle around it, spiraling into his center gradually.

Based on what Lex has told me, it's been a little while since anyone has done this to him, but he relaxes quickly once I push my fingertip inside him. He lets out an arousing combination of a grunt and a moan at the intrusion, so I poke him even deeper. Just like he always does to me, I draw my finger out, then slide it right back again. For a moment, I think I could come from my imagination alone as I picture my cock going inside his body, so I am grateful for whatever damper the condom puts on my desire.

"More, Clark," Lex moans quietly, and after taking aim quickly, I have to close my eyes in order to put a second finger alongside my first. I don't waste any time hunting around for his prostate, assuming I'll hit it with something eventually. "Better give me four fingers, man--you're pretty big."

That should say something about the novelty of my paying attention to other men's penises before I got involved with Lex--I honestly didn't realize that he would think that I was anything but ordinary. A rush of ego hits my head and my balls at about the same time, and a small pulse of pre-come shoots into the sheath. I follow his orders, but warn him as I do so, "I'm gonna need to come soon. Do you think you're ready?"

His face flushed and covered with a light sheen of sweat, he answers breathily, "Yeah, come on--do it. Fuck me already!" Shifting on the bed, I pull my hand out of his ass and add some lube to my encased dick, then assume the position. I must pause a little too long for him, because patiently he adds, "Don't be afraid, Clark. You can't hurt me. I love you. I want you to do this."

The head of my cock, exposed from my foreskin under the translucent latex, nudges his anus, and I watch in fascination as it slowly disappears into him. We both groan from the pressure and heat, and, if anything, I get even harder as I feel my sex squeezed in his muscular hole.

"God, you feel good," I murmur, plunging deeper into him by inches.

"I was gonna say the same thing," he replies, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth slack.

Another inch, and I stretch up to taste the little scar on my lover's top lip. At last, my dick is sunk completely within Lex, and I don't really want to move, except that I want to take that journey again. Almost reluctantly, I rock my hips back and reverse direction, then take another stroke, smooth and fast, and I nearly see stars.

"That's it, Clark. You've got it," he says, without a trace of irony, letting me know that he's enjoying this as much as I am. My hand finds his erection, and, taking pains not to speed up to superhuman levels, I jack him doubletime to my thrusts. "Oh, God, Clark," he nearly whimpers, his voice tight with arousal, "I've wanted this so long... Oh, yeah--ohhhhh, jeez. Fuck--oh!"

His voice catches on an inhale, and his seed spills from him in a hot flood over my hand and his belly. Simultaneously inside him, the entire passage where I've buried my penis convulses, dragging me almost against my wishes to the edge way too fast. Harder and harder I pound into him, either unable or unwilling to finish it, because then my first time will be over. Still fuck-stupid, he looks up at me and breathes two words: "Clark--come."

That's all it takes: suddenly my spine stiffens, my balls contract, and I am coming inside Lex. I holler nonsense syllables as tears I can't quite explain run down my cheeks, then flop gracelessly upon his body while the last few spasms empty my cock.

Warm, sensitive hands weave through my hair as I recover, bringing me back to myself slowly. "You still with me, Clark? How are you doing?"

I actually have to think about my answer for a moment. "Pretty good, I think," I reply, blinking my eyes back into doing the vision thing by sheer force.

Lex's thumbs caress my temples, coercing me gently to raise my head and look into his eyes. They are tender and loving, and just a little wet, too. "Thank you, Clark. "Pretty good" doesn't even
begin to describe it."

"Really?" I gape. "I did it right, even my first time?"

He kisses me firmly and thoroughly, then pulls back with a sweet smile. "You did just fine, beautiful. Blame it on the afterglow, but I'm even tempted to say, "Today you are a man"."

I can tell he's teasing me a little, so I rib him back. "So what about tomorrow?"

With a sly grin, he answers, "We'll do it again and make sure you still are."

Lex likes it when I try new things, like art films and sushi. He
really likes it when the new things involve him, and me, and his bed. That makes two of us. Novelty is a good thing.